


Somebody Rest Ye Merry Person-Shaped Beings

by Lunasong365



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale is drunk and Crowley is not, Bookshop, Christmas, Christmas carol, Implied Slash, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 20:02:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8728249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunasong365/pseuds/Lunasong365
Summary: Aziraphale reveals a Christmas secret to Crowley, then they sing a classic Christmas carol together.





	

“Aziraphale! Aziraphale? I’ve brought us a bit of Christmas cheer!”

Crowley entered the darkened shop and peered around. The angel was nowhere in sight. Strobing reflections from a particularly garish light display across the street pulsed and flickered with multi-colored light against the wall-to-wall bookcases, casting eerie shadows. The demon wandered through the maze of stacked books until he reached the back room.

“Oh. You started without me.”

“Bleeaarrrgh,” Aziraphale groaned.

Crowley stooped down to look in Aziraphale’s eyes. “What on Earth have you been drinking?”

“Er. Um. Sum’t’in’ from a long time ago. Naz’reth. Yeah. From dere.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Nazareth? Why were you drinking something from Nazareth?”

“To remember! No! To forget! This time o’ year, I wanna forget.”

“What are you trying to forget?”

“Took my job. Shoulda been me. Givin’ the message to Mary. I was…“ Aziraphale hiccupped, “…Heaven’s representative on Earth. Shoulda been me.”

“Who took your job? What message?” Crowley was beginning to feel like an investigative journalist.

“Gabr’el. I was s’posed to give a message to Mary ‘bout a baby. But I couldn’t. They didn’t find me in time.”

Crowley had a flashback to a baby and supernatural messengers that _did_   find him in time. He shuddered.

“You were dere. Drinkin’ wi’ me.”

Suddenly Crowley knew exactly when, where, why, who, and how.

“Oh. Yeah.” A smirk played along the top of Crowley’s lip. He stifled it for the sake of friendship.

 

***

 

Crowley helped Aziraphale off the floor and into a chair. At least the bottom part of Aziraphale was in the chair. The top part was sprawled across the table. Crowley sat across from him, an amused expression on his face.

“So you missed one assignment because you were indisposed. I know your lot in Heaven aren’t too forgiving, but isn’t that a little extreme?”

“Wasn’t the first,” mumbled the disheveled head of curls folded into two plump forearms.

“Oh? Do tell.” Crowley rested his chin on his intertwined fingers and released the smirk.

“Six months before dat, I was s’posed to give a message to an old priest that he an’ his wife were gonna have a baby.”

“Again with the babies! So you were supposed to tell him to hie on home and have sexy times with his wife? How old was this guy? Not too old, apparently.”

“I was reading a scroll in the Temple and lost track of time. Gabr’el jumped in and delivered that one too.” Aziraphale snorted. “Opportunist.”

Crowley wisely held his tongue.

_God will always find a way despite the foibles of humans and, apparently, angels._

 

***

 

“Aziraphale, you can’t hold onto a two-thousand year-old grudge!”

“Why not? He’s…“ he looked vaguely upwards, “…held them for longer. Not that I’m comparing myself to the Almighty,” Aziraphale quickly amended.

“No, no, I’d agree that God has you outdone in the petulance department,” Crowley muttered.

Aziraphale scoffed. “Gabriel is a twat. An’ ‘cause of him, I was excluded from singing in the heavenly chorus at Jesus’s birth.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Yes, the only being ever to have his birth announced by angels.”

“I really, really wanted to sing. I’d already learned all the music. _Glory to God in the highest, and peace to his people on earth, fa la la la la hallelujah…_ um…” Aziraphale looked blankly at Crowley. “Sorry. Don’ ‘member the rest.”

Crowley grimaced. “It’s okay. Really.”

The angel sighed glumly.

Something stirred in Crowley’s non-existent heart. He sighed resignedly.

“I’ll sing with you. Here. Now.”

“Wha’?”

“I’ll sing with you. It will sound like an entire choir of angels.” Crowley snapped his fingers several times as he spun around in a circle. Surround-sound speakers suddenly filled every corner. On the sound pad mix board in his hand, he punched ‘Chorus Effect’ and ‘Reverb,’ then handed the mic to Aziraphale.

“Wait. I think we’ll need the words,” said Crowley. He grabbed a likely looking folio off a nearby shelf. Sure enough, it was titled ‘Favourite Christmas Carols.’ “Let’s try this song. Damn! Says it’s from the 15th century.”

“I ‘member the 15th century.”

“Yeah. So do I. Hell of a lot better than the 14th. Guess we’re not the only things to survive, eh?”

 

_God rest ye, merry gentlemen_

 

“Not so PC, now is it? But I could go for that ‘resting’ part. And why’s it so merry if it’s in a minor key?”

“S’not whaddit means.” Aziraphale sighed and decided to sober up. Just enough to have an excuse to open Crowley’s bottle. “Times have changed, I agree.”

“What do you mean, ‘that’s not what it means'?”

“Well, dear, remember how Agnes’s book was ‘nice and accurate'? Words change in meaning over the centuries. If you recall, ‘rest’ meant to ‘keep’ or ‘make’. ‘Merry’ didn’t mean ‘cheerful,’ it meant ‘mighty.’ Like Robin Hood’s Merry Men.”

Crowley smiled at the memory.

“So this very first line means…” Here Aziraphale ran his finger down the page to the line, “Aha! Thought so. The misplaced comma; erratum copied throughout the centuries. It should read _God rest ye merry, gentlemen,_ meaning ‘May God keep you strong.’”

“Huh.”

“Actually,” recalled Aziraphale fondly, “I may have had something to do with writing this song. It’s old enough that, at the time, all the songs of organized religion were in Latin and rather somber and dark. This is a spritely tune, don’t you think? Even if it is in a minor key. And the lyrics are in the vernacular of the day. So anyone could sing it.”

“The tune sounds like a drinking song.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips in vexation and looked the other way. “Perhaps. We haven’t really gotten too far into it, have we?”

“I’m not singing more until we open this bottle.”

“Very well.”

A moment later, Crowley held the book and a glass, and Aziraphale held the mic and a glass.

 

 _God rest ye merry, gentlemen_ (the comma had miraculously been reset)  
_Let nothing you dismay_

 

“Wait. ‘Let nothing you dismay.’ Shouldn’t it be ‘Let nothing dismay you’?”

“That doesn’t fit the meter and rhyme.”

Crowley looked down to the next line. “Oh. Guess what, angel?”

“What?”

“It mentions That Day.”

Aziraphale sniffed. “It’s a Christmas carol. It has to say something about That Day.”

 

_Remember Christ, our Saviour_  
_Was born on Christmas day_

 

“Rather uppity, don’t you think? Naming a day after himself?”

“I’m absolutely sure he didn’t do the naming.”

 

_To save us all from Satan’s power_  
_When we were gone astray_

 

“Hey!” said Crowley. “I don’t think it’s giving me enough credit here.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “Aren’t you giving yourself a little too much credit? Comparing yourself to Satan?”

“You started it. Comparing yourself to… you know.”

“I was drunk! Besides, I said I wasn’t comparing myself to… you know.”

“Whatever.”

“Dear, I was thinking of you when I wrote it.”

“Oh yeah?” Crowley said happily. “I have led a few people astray, haven’t I?”

“Just a few. That time you were in Manchester and I was stuck in Shropshire because the transit union went on strike. Let’s start again from the beginning.”

 

_God rest ye merry, gentlemen_  
_Let nothing you dismay_  
_Remember Christ, our Saviour_  
_Was born on Christmas day_  
_To save us all from Satan’s power_  
_When we were gone astray_  
_O tidings of comfort and joy_  
_Comfort and joy_  
_O tidings of comfort and joy._

 

The demon yawned. “Speaking of comfort. There’s more comfortable places to rest my merry arse in this bookshop than at your kitchen table.”

“Your merry arse. Is that contemporary terminology or the 15th century definition?” Aziraphale almost looked innocent. Almost.

 

***

  
_For behold, I bring you tidings of great Joy…_

 

As they moved together none-too quietly on this otherwise silent night, Aziraphale smugly reckoned that Gabriel couldn’t top this.

His satisfied smile almost looked innocent. Almost.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic covers the two named appearances by Gabriel in the New Testament (Luke Ch. 1), but I've conveniently left out that he also appears in the book of Daniel. I'm not alone in dropping parts of the Bible that don't fit my narrative.  
> The information about _God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen_ is from a book called _Stories Behind the Best Loved Songs of Christmas_ by Ace Collins.
> 
> Happy holidays to all! I sincerely wish Peace to all at this holiday time and the year to come.  
> With much love to all in the GO fandom,  
> Luna


End file.
